Hi,
my name is Neon. Don’t be fooled by my cropped, chopped, and
multi-colored hair. Don’t be fooled by my baggy pants and the fact
that I hit like a man, or the fact that my breasts are the size of
acorns. I’m actually a girl. I like to spell it Grrl.

But
that’s not important. Let’s get to the nitty gritty. I just
moved to this stupid suburbia about a month ago. In my home town of
Satsuma, Alabama, I was a beautiful freak. Here, in the outskirts of
a major city I hate so much I’d rather not mention, I blend.
Blend, blend, blend. I hate it! What was once my unique and
personal statement is now drowned by the locals. They’re a parade
of people who try to one-up each other on who can look the weirdest.

So
how am I to get John Cooley’s attention?

I
wondered that for the first week of school, while I was still going
through the culture-shock of not
being stared at. Of not being
pointed at or outcasted. I walked down the hallway of the school,
which looked more like an enormous mall, with the one friend I had
made. Well, sort of. This boy with stringy green hair and baggy
jeans decided to attach himself to my hip and follow me everywhere,
constantly. I didn’t mind. He made me crack up every time he
stumbled on his overly-baggy jeans and face-planted on the floor. Or
the pavement. Even once in a huge pile of dog crap.

“Seth”,
I moaned as I helped him up from the ground for the hundredth time,
“You know, the trend is skinny jeans now. Not those old baggy
Jncos.”